Grass Stains
by belle-epave
Summary: Bend it Like Beckham. JessJoe, JessJules. In America things change.


  
_(Contre La Montre "kiss in an unusual location" challenge)_   
  
The difference between a first kiss and a last kiss is that for the first one, you're aware. The first kiss you feel through every bit of your body, thrills and fear and possibility and all the clichés are true.   
  
But the last kiss. Only very rarely do you know that this is it, this is the end, you'll never taste this person just like this again. it might be a bitter or angry kiss, a soft good morning kiss, a dashing-out-the-front-door kiss, or.   
  
Or it could be an all consuming goodbye kiss at the airport, in full view of your family and your dearest friend. It's an end. It's _the_ end.   
  
But you don't know. Not then. If you had known it was the true end, ending before it had even begun, you might have done it differently. How, you don't know. But somehow different, to savor the taste of Joe.   
  
Of course, not being psychic, you don't know. You think it's the beginning, and in a way you're right. So you kiss him in the airport and you smile and say goodbye and you get on the plane with your best friend, the golden girl. And you're gone.   
  
.:.   
  
The flight was long, longer than Jess could have imagined. They slept fitfully, heads drifting, resting on each other. Running between flights in a dazzlingly white American airport, Jules grabbed her hand, squeezed it once, and let it go. "I'm so glad you're here with me, Jess."   
  
Jess smiled back, a crooked grin, a half-beat pause in the cross-airport dash. "Me too."   
  
And together they were, virtually inseparable, allowing no more distance between them than the length of the pitch or two rings of the telephone.   
  
The distance from Joe was much greater, though. They could never get the knack of the time zones, and Jess's roommate began to complain. He wasn't much of a writer under the best of circumstances, and she didn't have time. Not with classes, practice, and Jules.   
  
Jules, who was always there when their coach was harsh, when a paper seemed insurmountable, when a member of the opposing team shot a well aimed slur just under the radar of the official.   
  
Jules was always there for her, so when Jess called her and got her roommate - "haven't seen her much lately, at least, not when she was awake. I thought she was with you" - an instinctive chill curled around her. She'd missed something, wrapped up in herself. Taking, always taking from Jules and never giving back. Muttering to herself, hands clenching and unclenching as she walked, she mechanically checked all the possibilities - library, quad, coffee shop, that little Thai place that so many other students had passed over - but no Jules.   
  
At the last, she went for the most obvious. She found her alone on the pitch, furiously drilling, unseen and unknown frustrations taken out on the black and white ball, the innocent netting of the goal. Jess stood on the sidelines, shifted her weight slowly, unsure what to say, what to do now that she'd found her. After a seeming eternity Jules looked up. A shadow flicked across her face, and ducking from Jess's gaze she picked up the ball.   
  
"Jules."   
  
"Don't. Just." Jules stopped, paced for a moment. Finally, "Sit with me." She indicated the patch of grass under the goal, and dropped down, cross-legged. Jess tumbled down next to her, lay on her back, dark eyes opened to the sky, and waited through the surprisingly comfortable silence.   
  
"It's just. Sometimes it's too much. This. Everything." Jess nodded in the growing darkness, reached over and took her hand. Jules let out a long breath. "You."   
  
"Me?"   
  
"But, I know, there's Joe."   
  
"Joe." Jess gave a harsh laugh. "When's the last time I spoke to him, really? You're the one who knows me."   
  
And then, slowly. Agonizingly slowly, Jess thought, Jules bent down and kissed her. Pressed their lips together with a feather light touch, then shocked at herself started up, only to be stopped as Jess grabbed for her wrist and pulled her back down.   
  
"Stop thinking," Jess whispered, and gave herself over to possibility. 


End file.
